


It'll Be Like Coming Home

by Abbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Multiple Pairings, OT3, Polyamory, Prompt Fic, Sickfic, Smoaking billionaires, Trying For A Baby, Tumblr Prompt, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of domestic and intimacy prompt fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nothing I Wouldn't Face With You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by carolinas-dreams: "Olicity + talking about having kids "

"Do you ever want your own?" Felicity leaned against the wooden rail and watched Diggle push Sara in the baby swing, her tiny chubby legs kicking gleefully.

Oliver inhaled in a long, slow measure, blinking. He hadn’t expected that question.

"Not—I mean!" Felicity swore under her breath, and Oliver turned to find her hiding her eyes with a hand across her forehead. "Oh my god, that was _not_ a buried lead, I swear, we _just_ started doing this thing, I am not even—that isn’t what I—we are _not_ —”

"I don’t know," Oliver answered quietly, honestly. Felicity dropped her hand and looked up at him in surprise and curiosity. He traced her features with careful eyes. "I mean… it’s a nice idea. I like the… the thought, of being a dad, of being Digg someday. That happiness, that… family…"

For a moment so charged it locked Oliver’s voice in his throat, the whole world was Felicity’s eyes.

He blinked. “But our lives right now, I can’t see it being possible. And I can’t see this not being my life any time soon, maybe… ever.”

Felicity didn’t comment on “our lives.”

She watched his face thoughtfully, her arm moving between them to slip her hand into his, squeezing. “I get it. It’s a really pretty dream, but we don’t exactly ‘live the dream.’” She smirked wryly, and he answered, small, in kind. “And, honestly…” She winced, eyes dropping to the grass beneath her sandals. “I don’t understand kids. I didn’t understand them when I _was_ one. And you’ve met my mom, and you’ve seen how we… how it’s hard to…” She inhaled gustily, suddenly. “Anyways. I’m not totally sure I’m cut out to be a mom? To raise a little person, to be responsible for molding an _actual_ entire human being from the ground up. It’s kind of…”

"Terrifying," Oliver completed on a breath.

Felicity’s head came up sharply, eyes wide. Slowly, she smiled, a soft and understanding curl. “Yeah.” She laughed, swinging their knotted hands together. “It’s a little silly, isn’t it? What we do every night, the things we face and the risks we take, but _that’s_ way more terrifying to me.” She lowered her eyes again, this time only as far as their threaded fingers. “But a lot can go wrong in raising a kid. There’s a lot to screw up. And it’s… forever. And the damage never lets go.”

Oliver watched the afternoon breeze play in the loose strands of hair at her temples, and thought of the scars he’d carried long before the island, the ones given to him by his parents. Loneliness. Uncertainty. Expectation. Scars he carried still beneath the newer, fleshier ones, scars that still surprised him sometimes with their ability to bleed on the present.

Turning against the rail, he lifted his free hand and slid his fingers against Felicity’s cheek, cupping the side of her face as she lifted it to look at him. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet, on the lips. “I know.” He leaned his forehead against hers, the bump of her glasses’ frame hard against the bridge of his nose. “But Felicity, I want to be clear on something. No matter how terrifying, or risky, or dangerous… there is nothing I wouldn’t face with you.”

She searched his eyes, her free hand coming up to curl, warm and steady, around the fingers bracing her cheek. “I know.”


	2. Can't Hardly Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy doesn't so much pop the question as blurt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompted by ohemgeeitscoley, Flommy "Marriage Proposal"

 

Felicity cuddled into Tommy’s side in the darkened living room, her head leaning into his shoulder—half dropping on his chest, really—as he threaded his fingers over and over through her hair, from roots to ends, fingernails scratching a quick path between her shoulder blades before going back up for another sweep.

A _Fresh Prince_ rerun murmured quietly on the TV as Felicity snuggled more under her cozy throw blanket, and even cozier boyfriend. She could about purr, she felt so content. Absently, she turned her head to press a kiss to the bit of collarbone exposed by the v-neck of his long-sleeved tee shirt, humming happily as she puffed warm air into the hollow of his throat.

Tommy giggled slightly, shivering at the ticklish sensation, then dropped a kiss on her crown. “Brat.”

"Love you," she smirked, wrapping an arm across his stomach to snuggle against his chest.

His ribcage expanded on a slow, deep breath, and, oddly solemnly, he pressed his mouth to her hair and answered, “I love you, too.”

She lifted her head to look at him, but his expression was soft and contented, just thoughtful. His mouth was too close not to kiss, so she applied her lips to the task, and then her tongue as he responded favorably, shifting against the couch cushions to turn more towards her.

When their mouths parted enough to share breath instead of heat, Felicity considered if she felt too cozy and warm and sleepy to suggest a move to the bedroom.

Just as she decided and began to slide her hand across his stomach and down, Tommy blurted against her lips, “Marry me.”

Felicity froze, eyes going wide, and leaned back to look at him.

He sat there, looking a little stunned by his own _actual proposal_ and near panicky the longer she stared at him.

"What?"

He swallowed visibly. “Marry me?”

Felicity stared a little longer, then blinked. Voice a distant murmur, she said, “ _Ther_ _e’s_ the question mark.”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Sorry, that—that did kind of sound demanding, didn’t it. In my defense, I was planning to wait until dinner tomorrow night but, um.” He dragged his eyes away from the far side of the room and stopped rubbing the back of his neck to look at her with the most heart-swelling expression of _reverence_ Felicity had ever seen, much less directed at _her_. “I just… love you too much. I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you.”

"Holy shit," she whispered, shifting back a a little as he reached down and clasped both of her hands in his.

"Felicity…" he bit his lip, a sort of helpless, nervous grin stretching under his teeth. "Please marry me. Please, _please_ , if you want to, if you—if you feel so inclined to grace the undeserving… be my wife?” He lifted her hands and kissed her fingers quickly. “My partner? My everything, my always, my forever. Marry me?”

"Holy shit," she breathed again, blinking rapidly against a rude prickle in her eyes.

She jerked her hands from Tommy’s, and his eyes widened, his face baring a moment of _heartbreak_ before going incredibly blank.

Felicity launched herself into Tommy’s chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, once, twice, three times. Four and five, and finally he began smiling again. “ _Yes_.” She sat back again, her hands cradling his face. “Yes, okay?”

Felicity was grinning so hard her face hurt, and Tommy was a mirror. “Yes? You—you will?”

She nodded hard, her chest somehow simultaneously swelling and squeezing. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” He took hold of her elbows and leaned in to kiss her hard, reigniting the spark of passion that had preceded his blurted proposition. Felicity pulled away with a tug of her teeth on his lower lip, smiling just as wide but with a little more heat. “This calls for some very celebratory sex. Don’t you think?”

Tommy licked his lips and swallowed, eyes on her mouth as he nodded almost absentmindedly. “This is why I leave the heavy thinking to you. I like all of your ideas _so_ well.”

She waggled her eyebrows and shimmied a little in her seat. “Alright then. Let’s go practice our wedding night.”


	3. An Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity's mouth gets the better of her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RosieTwiggs prompted Smoaking Billionaires "Marriage Proposal," but I went a little sideways with it. ;)

“ _Ugh_ , marry me,” Felicity moaned.

Oliver snickered at her feet, her bare heel cupped in one hand as he pressed his thumb into her arch.

Tommy bit his lip against a grin as she leaned against his chest and he kneaded the tension out of her shoulders. “Which one, Felicity?”

"Can’t I have both?" she whined, slitting her eyes open to look up at him.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but polygamy is illegal in this state.”

"Besides," Oliver quipped, holding off the rest of his retort as she groaned loudly when Tommy began working on a knot under her shoulder blade. "You could at least take us out to dinner first. We are men of class and substance, we need to be _wooed_ , Felicity.”

She snorted inelegantly, eyes sliding closed again as her focus dissolved under the steady pressure at her feet and back. “Oh, please. I know for a fact neither of you would need any more intensive _wooing_ than me tossing my panties across the room and— _god damn it_ , why did I say that?”

She slapped her hands over her face to hide from the laughter and the teasing, but instead found herself peeking through her fingers to the tune of loaded silence and stilled hands. “Um?”

Her eyes found Oliver’s first, his hands still cradling her bare foot. He slowly, holding her gaze, bit his bottom lip, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply.

Nervous wings fluttering in her belly, Felicity craned her head back to look at Tommy, who had one hand curled over her shoulder, the other under her shirt between her shoulder blades, fingers trapped beneath the band of her bra.

The seriousness of his expression dropped through her like a stone, settling into the pit of her gut and dissolving into tingling warmth.

"Guys?" Her voice was small and trembling, unsteady at the end.

Her breath caught in a strangled gasp as Tommy flicked his gaze up across the couch to Oliver, and on some cue his fingers twisted beneath her bra band and bunched around the hooks, just… holding it. Pinching it together.

Oliver’s hand left her heel to circle his fingers around her ankle and up, slow and dragging along the smooth curve of her calf, leaning forward to cup the soft back of her knee.

Felicity’s hands clutched desperately at Tommy’s thighs, and he leaned down to press his open mouth against her hairline. She felt the betraying tremble in his body when he asked, low and rough, “Was that a proposal?”


	4. Down With the Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver needs looking after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by placeofold, Olicity "Taking care of the other while sick" "because the kids I teach gave me deathflu *sigh*"

He was a whiny sick person.

This had surprised—even charmed—Felicity upon first realization, but two days into playing caretaker and it was a lot less cute.

"Felicityyyyyy," Oliver moaned stuffily from beneath the blanket mound on her couch. "I need soup."

Sighing, Felicity sat on the coffee table and flipped down the edge of the thick comforter that was hiding his face. He blinked through watery red eyes at her, an irritatingly adorable pout on his face. “I know. I _still_ know. It’s warming on the stove.”

"How much longer?" He muttered into the cushions.

"About five to ten minutes," she repeated patiently.

"Antonio’s? Chicken noodle?"

"Antonio’s chicken noodle." Huffing a little exasperated fondness, she reached out and pushed his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. It was getting to be time for a trim. "You sure you’re gonna be able to hold it down?"

"No," he sulked, "I’m _not_ sure. But I’m too hungry not to try.”

High on the largest dose of flu medicine she could keep in his system, he’d finally stopped trying to pretend he wasn’t sick, and had utterly resigned himself to his biological misery. Loudly. Articulately.

Felicity felt she was getting a peek at Oliver as a kid, and maybe even adult Oliver pre-Lian Yu.

He dragged the comforter back up over his nose, murmuring something growly and unintelligible as he shifted on the couch, his long body barely fitting from arm to arm.

"Hmm? What was that, Oliver?" She eyed his surroundings and bent at the waist to pick up a few discarded—used, ugh—tissues and throw them in the plastic bag she’d provided for that purpose. His glass of Gatorade—"the blue one, Felicity"—was empty again, too.

His head popped clear again and he glared, not so much at her as in general. “This is Roy’s fault. Shoulda never let the damn kid anywhere _near_ the foundry while he still had this stupid fucking _deathflu_ in his system. He prob’bly compromised _all_ our immune systems.”

Felicity stuffed her wrist against her mouth to futilely muffle her laugh. “ _Deathflu_? Oh god, so many _drama Queen_ puns springing to mind right now.”

This time, Oliver glared _at_ her, then rolled over to sulk into the back of the couch. She could still hear him utter darkly, “Laugh all you want, Smoak, you’re probably next.”

She snorted. “You better hope not, because if you’re still sick and I go down, don’t bet on Digg’s mercies being as tender as mine.”

He sighed and flopped onto his back, arms pushing free of the covers to shove them down to his waist, revealing a wrinkled and faded blue tee-shirt damp with fever sweat. “Sorry. This just _sucks_. But I hope you don’t get sick.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and sighed, gusty and a little mucusy with his clogged sinuses. “Thank you for letting me crash here, Felicity.” He wiggled and kicked the armrest of the couch. “Even if your couch is _stupidly_ tiny.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “You _could_ be resting in the guest room, in the _Queen-sized bed_. _You_ wanted to come and be sick and whiny out here.”

"Tired of being in that bed," he groused. "Needed a change of scenery."

She smiled ruefully, wondering how much of his spoiled-child behavior he’d remember when his fever finally broke and he was well again and back to his usual clamped-down self. “Let me go get your soup. It should be ready now, and you can take some more medicine with it. Then we can watch some TV or a movie or something for a while.”

"Okay," he sighed, shuffling up to a slightly more upright position against his pillow. "But something I’ve _seen_ before. I’m not in the mood for pop-culture-catchup.”

Impulsively, Felicity stood and leaned over him to press a kiss to his clammy forehead. “Sure thing, Sicky.”


	5. Unconventional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity wants a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by RosieTwiggs, Smoaking Billionaires "trying to get pregnant."
> 
> It went a little... odd.

 

 

"I want a baby," Felicity blurted into the quiet.

Oliver leaned over, choking on his fresh swallow of soda, and Tommy stared at Felicity with an open mouth as he absently pounded his best friend on the back.

"You  _what_?” Oliver rasped, still wheezing and coughing.

"Um." Tommy leaned forward, forearms bracing on his knees as he looked across the coffee table at Felicity on the loveseat. "I am  _so_  confused. Are you—did you start dating somebody and not  _tell_  us?”

Felicity grimaced. She probably should have gone with a softer open, but her nerves catapulted the words out of her mouth as ungently as could be managed. “No, no I’m not dating anybody. I just, I used to have a plan, you know? Finish college early, get a great job, find someone and settle down, start a family. I was just, I was realizing last month, at my birthday…” Nervously, she looked to her lap and shoved a loose curl behind her ear. “According to my plan, I was supposed to have a baby by this time next year.” She sucked in a large breath and fluttered her eyes up to the ceiling, not able to take facing her best friends’ stunned looks while she explained herself. “And I know my career hasn’t taken off as fast I want, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get that promotion next quarter, and so  _what_  if I haven’t dated anyone in over a year!”

She finally dragged her eyes down to look at Oliver and Tommy, who were both staring at her, concerned, confused, and not a little taken by surprise, “I can do this by myself. My mom did okay raising me alone! And I’m way more financially stable, and I’ve learned a lot from her mistakes, and I’ve got kind of a lot of money saved up and I’ve done all the research and I’ve even been to a couple of appointments and I’m pretty  _sure_  now, so I wanted… I wanted to tell you guys.” She bit her lip, looking earnestly from one face to the other. “I wanted to tell  _someone_ , because this is huge, and life-altering, and  _really_  important to me, and… you guys are important to me. I wanted to share this with  _you_.”

"Uh," Tommy was the first to recover. He blinked rapidly, rubbing one hand slowly over the back of his neck as he visibly gathered his words. "So you’re—you’re not seeing somebody or trying to find somebody, you’re—you want to do this by yourself?"

Felicity shrugged, but raised her chin resolutely. “I mean. Would I  _prefer_  to have a husband or at least a boyfriend, somebody to  _be_  the father? Sure. But I don’t want to _wait_  anymore, and the last few guys I was with were just…” she wrinkled her nose, thinking back, “ _not_  ‘dad’ material. So, really all I need is me and, well,  _dad_ material.”

Oliver coughed hard again, but this time smothering a grin.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “I said that on purpose, Oliver, it was a deliberate innuendo. Sperm, okay? I need sperm.” Tommy flushed, and Felicity gave him a hard side-eye. “I’ve been looking into IVF, and I’ve got a doctor and a clinic picked out, and I’ve been mapping my fertility and… well, they sent me home with a catalog.”

"A catalog?" Oliver asked, equal parts curiosity and incredulity.

Making a face, Felicity bent and picked up the nondescript gray folder from the floor beside the love seat. “There’s no pictures or names or identifying information, obviously, but it’s a catalog of sperm donors with the clinic, and, like, their… attributes, medical history, traits and achievements and things.”

She sighed, and Tommy and Oliver exchanged loaded glances while Felicity opened the book on her lap and frowned into the pages.

Standing together, they moved in opposite directions around the coffee table, flanking Felicity just as she looked up at them, frown deepening in confusion. “What…?”

Oliver and Tommy pressed in close and sat in the loveseat to either side of her, making her squeak at the tight fit. Oliver draped an arm across the back cushions and Tommy wrapped one around her waist, wedging in snugly. The book upset on her lap, and Tommy reached out to steady it just as Felicity slapped both hands on it, face flushing. “What are you guys doing?”

"Were you wanting us to help you pick, Felicity?" Oliver turned his head to look at her close enough to count the pale freckles dusting her nose. His voice held an odd note, one Felicity couldn’t identify.

"Um. That wasn’t—I wasn’t… I wasn’t planning to?" She stared at him in confusion, swallowing thickly and strangely uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "I mean, I _am_  having trouble deciding, because these guys kind of all sound like the rich assholes you’d find at one of your families’ country clubs.” She grimaced, eyes wandering back to the book in her lap, where Tommy was casually flipping pages. “I actually had an  _awful_  dream last night that I picked one and it turned out to be a sample from Carter Bowen.”

"Douchebag," Oliver muttered reflexively, Tommy curling his lip into a sneer on Felicity’s other side.

"That  _would_  be nightmarish. And donating to a sperm bank is totally something he would do,” Tommy straightened, clapping his hands together under his chin and forcing an angelic yet decidedly  _smug_  expression. “‘I am just  _so_  humbled—and thrilled, absolutely  _thrilled_ —to be able to make such a personal contribution to women in need who want to dedicate their lives to motherhood. Truly! I give you the gift of my magnificently gifted jizz, may your children be perfect assholes, just like _me_.’”

"Tommy!" Felicity laughed through her horror. Groaning, she slumped into his side, her head falling onto his shoulder. Oliver’s hand rubbed between her shoulder blades. "That’s  _exactly_  the kind of thing I’m afraid of though! I want a baby, I can do this myself, but this is just so…” She sighed gustily, forlornly staring at the pleasingly-formatted pages of donor data. “Impersonal. I hate not knowing.” She made another face. “Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that it’d be kind of creepier _knowing_  whose sperm I was getting injected with, I’d hack the clinic so I knew what I was getting into.”

"I think you mean, what was getting into  _you_ ,” Tommy snickered. Felicity rolled her head to glare up at him as Oliver smacked him on the shoulder. Sighing, he tucked his chin contritely and kissed Felicity’s nose. “Sorry. Still getting used to the idea of you wanting an anonymous bun in the oven, so. Bad puns.”

"Have you thought about adopting?" Oliver asked softly, fingers rubbing circles into her back again.

Tommy’s arm slipped back around her waist, gently squeezing, and she sighed, a little of the tension easing out of her as she sat bracketed in the warmth and care of the two most important men in her life. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. And in the end, it’s actually more expensive than IVF, and I figured, if the IVF doesn’t take, because it’s not actually guaranteed—” she flung a finger into the air, brows hiking, “—though I had it checked, and all my plumbing looks normal and supposedly I should be  _plenty_  fertile—” Oliver and Tommy exchanged wide-eyed looks over her head, “but if IVF doesn’t work out, I thought maybe  _then_  I could adopt.”

Sitting up, with Oliver and Tommy keeping their grip on her, she nibbled her lip and glanced from one to the other. “Maybe it makes me selfish? But I want… I want to at least try. To have my  _own_  baby.”

Tommy leaned in and affectionately kissed her cheek, and Oliver’s hand slipped from her back to catch and weave his fingers with one of hers. “It doesn’t make you selfish,” Oliver reassured.

"Exactly," Tommy chimed in, smoothing Felicity’s hair away from her face. "We support you, no matter what. I mean, presumably we’re going to be co-godfathers, or whatever the Jewish equivalent of that is—is there one?" He squinted at the ceiling, thinking, then shrugged with his whole face. "Nevermind, not the point. You don’t really practice anyways. The point  _is_ , whatever you wanna do, we’re gonna be there, from conception to birth and beyond.”

Oliver snorted, but when Tommy and Felicity turned quizzical looks on him, he tried to wave them off. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” Felicity frowned, squeezing his hand, and Tommy’s eyebrow did that slow, interrogative climb. Sighing, ears pinkening, Oliver tried to grin through it. “It’s just, when you first said you wanted a baby, before you busted out the book, I thought you were trying to ask me or Tommy.”  Felicity squinted at him for a second so, feeling his entire face warm, Oliver clarified, “To be the father.”

Both Tommy and Felicity’s eyes widened, Felicity’s mouth falling open as she stared at Oliver.

While Felicity gaped, Tommy’s gaze turned inward, brows scrunching together as he blinked like he’d been hit with a revelation. “Huh. You know… why  _not_  ask us?”

“ _What_?” Felicity turned towards him, her grip on Oliver’s hand even tighter.

Tommy turned towards her, hands up. “No, I mean, hear me out. Why not ask me or Oliver? Or better yet, me  _and_  Oliver.”

"Tommy," Oliver hissed in panicked warning.

“ _And_?” Felicity repeated, her expression the dictionary definition of incomprehension. “I mean, I love you both, you’d—you’d be great dads, but for one thing it’d be even  _more_  impossible to choose one of you and not the other, and I mean, wow, talk about awkward. You’re my best friends, that doesn’t mean you want to sign up to  _impregnate me_.”

Biting his lip hard for a second, Tommy glanced at Oliver—staunchly ignoring Oliver’s firmly shook head and hand waved sharply in a “cut it out” gesture—then blew out a laughing breath. “Felicity, if you think for one second that either of us wouldn’t  _leap_  at the chance to impregnate you, you’ve been paying a lot less attention over the last few years than I’ve been giving you credit for.”

Felicity’s mouth snapped shut with a click as her eyes went even rounder, red creeping up from the visible v of her sternum all the way to her hairline. In a strangled tone, she whispered, “ _Tommy_.”

Oliver’s head dropped briefly onto her shoulder. “I can kill him. Say the word, we can hide the body together.”

Tommy shot him a glare. “Would you listen for a second? I meant it when I said _and_.” Oliver’s head lifted so he could glare back at Tommy better, and Felicity stared at him in trepidation. “Have sex with us.”

Felicity inhaled sharply, a little gurgling sound of shock dying in the back of her throat.

"Oh my god," Oliver pulled his hand from Felicity’s deathgrip to run both palms back over his face and hair. "What is wrong with you, man?"

Tommy was starting to look a little manic around the edges, suddenly realizing he may have been really, really stupid. “I mean. I mean, we could—we could be the father. Of your baby. I mean, one of us, obviously. But—but we could both try! And, the sex, I mean, I’m not just trying to get in your pants, I swear, just—you could save the money, save it for the kid for a college fund, or for the adoption if the conception doesn’t happen.” He was starting to flush, panic rounding his eyes as the words pushed faster and faster out of his mouth. “I just. You hate how impersonal  _this,_ " he thumped the book still in her lap with his knuckles, "is, right? What’s  _more_ personal than the three of us? I mean Jesus, sex is pretty much the final frontier in this relationship by now, isn’t it?” He swallowed hard, focusing in tight on Felicity, his expression earnest and not a little frightened. “We could be as involved or not involved as you want. But we could save you some money, and probably some time, and it’d probably be a lot more fun than the medical turkey baster.”

Felicity bit her lip, staring at him as she slowly brought her hands up to cup his face. He covered her hands with his, loudly trying to even his shaky breathing. “Tommy, this isn’t just—isn’t just  _fun_. I’m trying to have a baby. Have you even  _thought_  about being a father? About what it would mean if I wanted—wanted you guys  _uninvolved_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he exhaled, searching her eyes. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it for  _years,_  Felicity, and honestly, really honestly, the only person I could ever see being a father with is you.” He turned his face to kiss her palm, the color draining from his cheeks as his humor vanished under the weight of reality. “I know I just blurted this out suddenly, but Felicity we’ve—” he glanced up with sudden chagrin at Oliver, who was watching almost wearily now, “ _I’ve_  been in love with you for years now. I’ve wanted you for years. And I’ve always wanted absolutely nothing more than you want to give me, and I’m just asking you to consider in that the chance to give you the baby you want.”

"We’ve," Oliver admitted quietly, resignedly. " _We’ve_  been in love with you for years.”

Felicity shifted to look at Oliver, dumbstruck, eyes all over his face. “You’ve talked about this. The two of you.”

"Yeah," Oliver nodded. "A while ago. You had to notice we haven’t really been dating anyone. We both love you. We both want you." He sighed, Leaning back against the love seat’s arm and knotting his fingers behind his neck. "And as much as I could punch Tommy in the balls for just  _dragging us out there_ , yeah, if you wanted, I’d kind of kill to have the chance to be the father of your kid.”

"Oh my god," Felicity whispered. Suddenly, she stood, pacing around to the other side of the coffee table with her arms wrapped around her waist, leaving Tommy looking stricken with his hands empty, and Oliver looking like he was waiting for the world to end slowly.

Her back to them, Felicity stared at the far wall of the living room and propped her hands on her hips. “Oh my  _god_.”

She hadn’t seen this coming.

Not that she was a complete idiot. She’d  _know_ _n_ there was a mutual attraction between her and Oliver and Tommy. She’d even suspected it ran through all three points in mutual direction. But she hadn’t—she’d loved them for years and  _years_ , and she’d never suspected they felt—that they  _loved her_. No, that they were  _in_ _love_ with her.

She never, ever even considered asking them—either of them, much less  _both_  of them—to give her a baby.

For a long, silent moment, she chewed her lip and thought. And thought.

Finally, she let out a long exhale, shoulders slowly falling, and turned towards Tommy and Oliver, who now sat side by side, leaning forward with a palpable air of nerves.

Still chewing her lip, Felicity asked in a small voice, “Are you sure?”

Both pairs of eyes widened and Oliver and Tommy began nodding eagerly, blurting together, “Yes.”

"Absolutely."

“ _Definitely_  sure.”

Stifling a little smile, Felicity pulled her arms tight around her. “Do you… do you want some time to think about it? Talk it over?”

They turned to look at each other for a quiet moment, then Tommy nodded shortly and looked back up at Felicity. “No. I know what I’m offering, and what I’m getting into. Whatever you decide.”

Swallowing hard, Oliver rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, shifting antsily in his seat. “Me, too. I mean. Yeah, this is sudden. Yeah, I kinda wanted to kick Tommy’s ass. But… I want to do this. More than anything. With you. For you. Whatever you want.”

"Wow. Okay. Okay. Um." Felicity’s hands fell to her sides, hit her hips again, then twisted in front of her stomach. "Well. Um. I’m—I’m actually currently ovulating, if you guys—I mean we can put it off, of course. And we should talk about how we want to do this, I mean, do we take turns, or…?"

Breaking out in grins, they stood and separated around the coffee table, moving towards her quickly.

Tommy reached her first and took her hands, leaning in to press the first of many lingering kisses to her lips. “Together. Let’s do this together.”

Felicity smiled slowly, then turned to look shyly at Oliver, who licked his lips and grinned, reaching for her left hand.

"Okay," she beamed, not quite able to believe this was happening. "Together."


End file.
